


Climb Right Inside and Stay

by SangreFria



Series: The Soulmates Series [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-03
Updated: 2011-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-17 13:11:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SangreFria/pseuds/SangreFria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wonders if this part ever scares Dean; just how desperate Sam is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Climb Right Inside and Stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queenklu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenklu/gifts).



> Written after the airing of Season 6, Episode 8 "All Dogs Go to Heaven"; it's a coda about soulless!Sam that turns into blatant, indulgent fix-it fic.

Sam waits in the car as Dean slips into the motel's office. It was already close to midnight, and Sam had to fight the urge to shift impatiently in the passenger seat. A restless itch had been building under his skin all day, and at this point, even the rumble of the Impala's idling engine was making him feel like he was about to shake himself apart.

He pulled at the collar of his dress shirt, feeling half strangled by it, and loosened the tie with a few sharp yanks. They'd been playing the FBI angle since dawn, trying to track down whatever it was that had a nasty craving for kids under the age of twelve, and it called for a certain air of aloof professionalism. Which meant that he'd had to walk, sit, and interview witnesses with Dean- shoulder to shoulder with him for hours- and only once managed to so much as brush his fingers against the skin of Dean's wrist.

The sweet burst of emotion in that one instant was enough to keep him going the rest of the day, but now all he could think about was getting Dean behind a locked door.

He was keeping his hands clenched carefully in his lap as Dean climbed back in and shifted into drive, so he nearly fumbled the room key that Dean tossed at him. "Look alive, Jerry Rice." Dean's tone was playful, but his eyes studied Sam closely. Sam forced his lips slightly upwards in what he hoped was a convincing smile. Dean looked distinctly unimpressed by the effort, cutting the engine in front of a door with a peeling number nine painted on it. "Well, let's get you inside before the clock strikes twelve, princess."

Their routine inside the room hasn't changed since that morning two weeks before, though they're moving around a king-sized bed instead of two queens. Sam goes through the motions, brushing his teeth as usual, despite the distraction of sharing a mirror with his brother. Dean has obviously picked up on Sam's tension, his eyes following every movement of Sam's reflection. He's still watching Sam as he strips off his shirt, and maybe Sam would find this part awkward if he had his soul, but there's only anticipation settling low in his belly as he unzips his pants and lets them fall to the floor.

Once they're both settled under the covers, it takes Sam about three seconds of lying still in the darkness before he _completely loses his shit_.

He wonders if this part ever scares Dean; just how desperate Sam is. He's on Dean like he wants to _devour_ him, face pressed to Dean's neck, hands roaming like he can't get enough, trying to touch him everywhere at once. The mantra in his head- _Dean Dean Dean Dean_ \- spills out of his mouth, he's panting it right into Dean's ear, his body trembling all over as it crushes Dean between himself and the mattress.

And the way Sam _feels_. The force of it shouldn't be something his chest can even contain. There's no guilt now, no pain. He gets to spend every night being _Sam_ , sleeping like Lucifer is just another name in the Bible, waking up completely surrounded by Dean. His feelings are being passed back to Dean, magnified by how it makes _him_ feel. The heat and power of Dean's love is crackling through him tonight, stronger than ever before, and he's never felt closer to him.

He finds himself not just breathing against Dean's neck, but laying a trail of open-mouthed kisses back up to his jaw. _Woah_. That was new. He can feel his shoulders hunching a little, stomach doing a slow roll at the thought that he might have pushed too far. "...Dean?" He prepares himself for the worst, brow furrowed and eyes begging mercy, as he pulls back far enough to see Dean's face.

Dean is looking up at him like he's finally found _his brother_. Not just his brother's soul, but the brother he'd had and lost before Castiel dragged him right back out of Hell.

Dean trails a hand up Sam's back, fingertips lightly brushing his skin, then squeezes gently where his neck meets his shoulder, a reassuring gesture he'd been using on Sam for as far back as he could remember. Every place that Sam is touching Dean's skin feels hot, and a sleepy calm moves through him.

" _Sammy_." Dean's whisper is low, like this is just for them. Like no one else- Heaven and Hell be damned- will ever know. His pupils are blown, only a thin ring of green visible, before his eyelids fall to half-mast. He raises his head towards Sam, tilting his chin in a clear invitation. Sam doesn't even have to stop to think before dipping his head and meeting his lips halfway.

There's a sharp spike in the heat that Sam's come to associate with his soul, and his body shudders and twists against Dean. Dean's lips were slightly parted from the start, but once he feels Sam, he opens up for him completely, hand sliding from Sam's neck to fist his hair.

Sam feels Dean's other hand at the small of his back, toying with the waistband of his boxers, fingertips sliding just below the elastic. Sam's hips buck down against Dean's thigh, and Dean lets the band snap back against Sam's skin. He can't help his startled groan, and Dean does it again, his kiss-swollen lips curving into a smile against Sam's mouth.

Sam reaches behind him, grabbing the forearm of the mischievous hand, and pins it to the mattress by Dean's head. Dean, not to be outdone, uses his grip on Sam's hair to pull him away from his mouth, guiding him down to his throat. Sam sets to work, sucking and biting all the skin within reach as Dean positions his head where he wants him.

"Aw _shit_ , Sammy." Their chests are heaving with each breath, causing Dean's nipples to brush against Sam again and again, and it's driving him _insane_. Dean pulls on his hair just enough to make his blood boil, and Sam bites down harder, right at the edge of Dean's tattoo. "Fuck!"

Dean starts rubbing up against Sam's hip like there are lives at stake, and Sam knows himself well enough to realize he's about thirty seconds away from coming in his shorts like a fourteen-year-old kid. Time to lose the shorts.

He has enough coordination to shimmy out of his boxers with one hand, maneuver Dean out of _his_ with the other, and suck a livid hickey right over Dean's heart all at the same time. Now Dean's cock is smearing slick precome between their bellies with each urgent thrust Sam makes, and multitasking is suddenly impossible. It's all he can do to keep his eyes on Dean's face and just _breathe_.

Dean's eyes go a little wild, and his hands tighten on Sam's shoulders. His focus drops to those full, red lips as Dean gasps. "Ah, _Sammy_!" The look on Dean's face when he comes is the most beautiful thing Sam's ever seen, and he pulls him into a bruising kiss. What feels like fire pours into Sam from Dean's mouth, sparks of it shooting through every cell in his body, and it's just so deliciously _good_ that Sam feels like he's dying.

Sam must blackout for a minute or two, because when he comes around, Dean is wiping his stomach with a warm, wet washcloth. Dean catches his eye and leans back, letting Sam spend several silent moments just looking at him.

He loves Dean. Loves him with everything that he is, and was, and could be. Sam had lived through more suffering than he had ever thought possible, but if there's one thing that all the tragedies of his life had taught him, it was that nothing was ever going to change how he felt about Dean. Just looking at Dean, just being near him, made Sam into the kind of person who could weather any storm. Dean wasn't just an important part of Sam's life, or even the center of Sam's life. Dean simply _was_ Sam's life; take him away and Sam only kept breathing out of habit.

Sam smiled up at Dean, who cocked an eyebrow at him, looking as smug as only Dean could be. And that's when Sam noticed. Not a single bit of their skin is touching, but Sam feels relaxed. Happy. _Loved_.

"Looks like I had enough for two." Dean keeps watching Sam, and after enduring several more seconds of Sam's stunned silence, he rubs at the back of his neck and begins to speak more quickly. "Of course, who knows if it'll wear off over time. And it's only a quick, temporary fix anyway, but hey..." Dean tries to shrug nonchalantly, but Sam can tell that he's a little nervous. "Those are my specialty, right?"

Sam grabs his arm and pulls Dean down next to him, skin-to-skin, soul-to-shared-soul, and kisses him breathless.


End file.
